


Indecent Proposal

by kangeiko



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: 2014 season, F/M, M/M, Multi, PWP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-13
Updated: 2017-05-12
Packaged: 2018-10-31 04:28:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10891686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kangeiko/pseuds/kangeiko
Summary: Kimi is turning 35, and Minttu wants to get him the perfect gift.





	Indecent Proposal

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not archive this work on any other site or distribute it without my prior permission. Standard disclaimers apply.

Fernando wondered if maybe his English was failing him. Or Minttu. Or maybe the meaning was falling between them, because he couldn't have understood correctly. He blinked a few times, waiting for the passing engineers to move out of earshot before leaning back in.

"And so - he asked for _this_?"

She shrugged and resettled her pashmina around her shoulders. "Not this. Not in words. But he had a list."

"A list?" A fucking list? A list of - fucking? What exactly went on in the Räikkönen-Virtanen household?

Minttu did not appear to think that there was anything at all the matter with this. "Of things he would like to try. Things he has not done before."

The entire conversation was bordering on the surreal. Fernando groped for something to say that would not betray just how at sea he felt. "If - maybe, um, if he wants a threesome, maybe a girl friend would be better." 

She raised an eyebrow at that. "You think Kimi has not fucked two girls before?"

Well. When she put it like _that_. 

The problem was, Fernando still felt that something important was eluding him. Some crucial aspect of this conversation was not quite being understood. Maybe they were all a bit too tired to make sense.

They’d been locked down at Maranello for what felt like months, doing damage control following Monza and Luca’s departure. Fernando was close to chewing off his own leg to escape, and so when Minttu had cornered him at the espresso bar during a particularly exasperating day, nudging him out of earshot with a pointed glance, he had gone willingly. He wasn’t entirely sure what he had been expecting - commiserations on his DNF, maybe, or perhaps passing on a message from Kimi, who appeared to be forcibly locked in a simulator. Maybe even sharing something of concern overheard in the ladies’ bathroom that she needed to tell someone about. 

Instead, this. 

It _had_ to be a joke, or a misunderstanding of some sort. Fernando could not believe, on any level, that Kimi's wish for his 35th birthday was to be fucked by his teammate. If Kimi wanted to play sex games, fine, ok, he could believe that. With another guy, sure, ok. With a fellow driver; that made sense. With him? No. "Maybe Sebastian would be better, then," he said hesitantly. Was Vettel straight? He had no idea. But Vettel's presence was at least one which Kimi actively sought out, as opposed to merely tolerated. Despite both of their efforts at projecting team unity to the public, their private relationship had stalled at merely ‘civil’. 

Minttu shook her head. "Sebi, he is sweet, but he would not be the one doing the fucking, I think." She tipped her head to one side. "He did not say it was you, but I - inferred? Yes - from what he told me he wanted. But you have many reasons why you are not the correct person. Do you not want to?"

She looked at him expectantly, a madonna in white cashmere, her hands folded over the swell of her belly. She would not be able to participate much, he thought; she was too far along in the pregnancy, and he could not imagine any man letting someone else touch his pregnant girlfriend. No, she would watch, and maybe offer a helping hand, but it would be mostly him and Kimi. 

Him and Kimi, after all the bad blood between them, and all their fruitless attempts at moving past it. Him and Kimi, in bed, with Kimi trusting him enough to do this right.

And so. Did he want to?

"I - yes," he said, surprising himself. His mind was already hard at work, imagining Kimi stripped down and spread out on his bed, looking at him challengingly. Fernando wet his lips. "I would like to try."

"Try?"

He shrugged and put his coffee down. "It is up to him, yes? If he wants me to. He might say no." He might hit me really hard for even saying it, he thought. 

"He will not," she said as if that settled the matter, and Fernando wondered where her certainty came from. 

 

*

Kimi did not hit him. He did, however, choke on his vodka. "Hä?"

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

Kimi coughed again and leaned back in his seat. 

A week had passed since Minttu’s unexpected offer, with Fernando jumping at every word from Kimi until at last he had decided that Minttu must not have mentioned it yet and he would have to bring it up. He could not wait for Minttu to find the right time; hell, they hadn’t even discussed if she _would_ mention it. Maybe she just expected Fernando to turn up one night on their doorstep. In the meantime, Fernando’s concentration was shot, and Kimi was starting to give him strange looks. If this was meant to somehow progress them beyond mere politeness - and Fernando was under no impression that this was some form of goodwill ambassadorial duty he was undertaking - it would do them no good to have him jump at shadows for a few more weeks. No, this had to be addressed.

They’d gone out for their one permitted night of drinking after the lacklustre finish at Singapore - Kimi frustrated with the car, Fernando with himself - and had holed up in a private area of the VIP bar in an effort to escape the over-excited fans swamping every open nightclub. Luckily Lewis had decided that he would be magnanimous in victory and had forcibly dragged out a forlorn-looking Nico for some drinking and dancing away of any woes and animosity, and between them and Dan - who was still jumping around like someone had slipped sugar in his water - they had drawn a big enough crowd to ensure that no one paid any attention when Fernando and Kimi had slipped away. 

It was the best opportunity for a private conversation he’d had thus far, and Fernando was not going to put up with the distraction any longer. He could perhaps have chosen to phrase the question a little more delicately, but, well. 

For his part, Kimi looked surprised, but not revolted. "I do not know how to answer that. Why would you ask this?"

Fernando tapped his fingers on the table, all of his attention on his drink. "It is a birthday gift, from your girlfriend.” He smiled a little. “She asked me if I would; made me think she is going to suggest it to you. Or she will spring it as a surprise. I do not wish to wait, it is distracting me. And so I thought I should ask."

"You -"

"If you do not want it," Fernando said, still not looking at him, "tell me that Minttu is mistaken. It will be unsaid, yes? We will forget." He glanced up and away, feeling his face heat.

Kimi was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on Fernando as if thinking something through. Then, "she is not mistaken." He put his drink down. “I said some things to her. I let her decide what to do with them. It is surprising to me that she would choose this.” He smiled a little, lip quirking. “Obviously, yes? But she is not mistaken. I said them.”

That did not settle anything. Fernando fiddled with the label of his beer bottle and glanced at Kimi again. “But did you mean them?”

Kimi pursed his lips and his gaze slid away. “I don’t know. Maybe. Uh -” he glanced back and went a little pink, “you can forget, if you want.”

Abruptly, Fernando felt a little ashamed at how he’d pressed without offering anything in return. Kimi’s customary sunglasses were off - a concession to actually having a human conversation, as opposed to being forcibly questioned by the press - and he seemed to be trying to meet Fernando’s eyes, waiting patiently for him to reply.

“No,” Fernando said, and put his Peroni down with more force than was perhaps necessary. “No, I - if the offer is still open, uh, I’d like to. Try, I mean.” He could feel the heat in his own face mirror that of Kimi’s, both of them maintaining eye contact as a point of principle.

Kimi was the first to look away. “After Sochi,” he said abruptly. “Minttu wants to organise a birthday party for me. Only family, a few friends. We’ll take a few days off, go back to Helsinki. You can come to visit.”

The birthday party, of course. He’d have to show his face and make nice, otherwise there’d be no reason for his presence in the country, and - shit. He hadn’t thought this through. He’d rushed into speaking with Kimi, and Minttu had probably been holding off until she could organise all the logistics, all the practical details that now crowded him. Of course, Minttu would want to do this in her home, in her own bed (in Kimi’s bed, Fernando’s brain supplied, and that felt wrong for all sorts of reasons). And how would they explain Fernando’s presence at Kimi’s birthday, at Kimi’s house?

Fernando hadn’t invited Kimi to his own birthday celebrations, taking advantage of the summer break to sneak away with Dasha for a few weeks and go skiing. They’d had wonderful weather and a terrible time, the relationship on its last legs before they’d made it back down the slopes. When he’d got back he’d mentioned casually that he was single again, things not having worked out, but that he wasn’t announcing it to the press yet. Kimi had grunted in reply, and never mentioned it again. Fernando honestly wasn’t sure if that had been an “I will respect your privacy” grunt, or an “I don’t care and will forget about this immediately” grunt. Either way, Kimi had made himself scarce.

He hadn’t mentioned Dasha again, though, thinking on it. And he had used to mention her previously - just the standard enquiry after her health, sounding as though the question was being dragged out of him with sticks - but he _had_ mentioned her. And after the summer break? Nothing. 

Had Fernando asked after Minttu after her pregnancy was announced? No. Well, partly that was because she had started coming to all the races, so he could see that she was doing ok - and they did speak occasionally - so he hadn’t been completely rude. But did he know how they were doing, as a couple? No. 

He bit his lip. He really hoped that this threesome idea of Minttu’s was simply a thoughtful gift, and not a bandaid on a troubled relationship. One breakup per year was sufficient. He did not wish to have a ringside seat for anything like that again - and he most certainly did not wish to be involved in it.

Kimi was still looking at him expectantly, and Fernando realised that he hadn’t answered. “Yes,” he said, and reached for his beer again. “I will come. I will bring you a terrible gift to unwrap. Something Ferrari themed. A smoking jacket, or a pen-holder.”

Kimi rolled his eyes at that, but his flush settled down a little. “And you must be nice to my guests,” he said, and held up a finger. “ _All_ of my guests.”

Oh _no_. “I’ll be nice,” he said, and Kimi laughed at the look on his face.

Of course Vettel would be there. _Of course_.

A waiter appeared, carrying their long-overdue shots, and they both lined them up to seal the deal. Down in one, and this time Fernando was the one coughing, wishing he’d opted for something a little less lethal.

Kimi laughed again at his discomfort, leaning forward to bang him on the back and making it worse. Across the room, the source of Fernando’s unease was making his way across to the two of them, more lethal shots in hand. Kimi gave Fernando a look and he sighed, nodding.

“Hey, good race,” he said, trying to inject some feeling in his words, and Kimi rolled his eyes. 

“Ignore him, he’s jealous. It was good,” he said, and reached up to grab the shots from Vettel's hands.

“Thanks. It was ok,” Sebastian said, and flung himself down. “Would have been better if I hadn’t died immediately afterwards.”

Kimi said something quiet in Finnish, and Sebastian laughed, reaching over to clink glasses.

Fernando - who had run out of anything else he wanted to say to Vettel - wondered just how interested he was in fucking Kimi, if he was willing to put up with a drunk and moping Sebastian Vettel. Clearly it was more than just a passing fancy, and maybe he needed another drink to remedy that. “I’ll have one of those,” he said, and was pleased to see Kimi’s grin at that.

*

End part 1


End file.
